


A Champion and A Warrior

by Woodsmokeandwords (MmPumpkins)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Fenris - Freeform, Fenris/m!hawke - Freeform, Flogging, Garrett Hawke - Freeform, M/M, PTSD, Physical Abuse, Scars, boys being adorable in bed, fenhawke - Freeform, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:06:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6319477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MmPumpkins/pseuds/Woodsmokeandwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short stories about a certain elf and a certain mage, their thoughts, conversations and how they eventually fell for one another. Not posted in any particular order. Rated M for sex, swearing and various forms of abuse. Archive warnings apply (any non-con and abuse is a result of flashbacks and does not take place between Hawke and Fenris). Tags will be updated as new chapters are added.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first of many pieces that I've written about these darlings. This one is fairly old so my writing style has changed a bit since then, pay it no mind.  
I totally used my own scars for inspiration, and borrowed a few from my family members as well. My dad is the one that fell out of a tree and impaled his leg on a branch, I am better at climbing trees than that.

 

* * *

 

 

The candlelight set shadows dancing across the linen sheets, dark hollows forming in the dips between their bodies. They were not laying that close together, for once, and Garret’s left arm stretched across the space between them as he traced shapes on Fenris bicep. He was laying on his side, eyes raking the planes of Fenris’ back over and over again; the lithe muscles of his shoulders, the shape of his shoulder bones under his tawny flesh. This was the first time they’d been so naked together and each had taken a moment initially to appreciate the other but now that he could do so at a more leisurely pace Garrett was damned if he wasn’t going to savour it. He slowly, lightly moved his fingers up over Fenris‘ shoulder where he pressed a little harder, rubbing in circles. Fenris hummed low in his throat and Garrett smiled. It faded however when his fingers brushed over a ridge of scar tissue and Fenris tensed almost imperceptibly before relaxing again. Garrett pushed himself up onto his elbow, noticing more and more lines crisscrossing the elf’s back like some kind of mad lattice.  

"These?" He asked quietly.

  
"Danarius had me flogged for lying." It took Fenris a long time to respond and when he did it was in the tone of someone working hard to sound nonchalant.  
"Lying?" Hawke asked tentatively.

  
"I told him that Hadriana had taken my food. He asked me why she would take the fare of a slave when she could have any food she wanted. I had no succinct response and so he had me taken to the overseer... There would have been more scars but he liked his  _pet_ to look beautiful. These he left as a warning."

  
Hawke was silent for a long while until he noticed an incredibly faded but large scar on Fenris' shoulder.  
"What about this one?"

  
"I do not remember. It is from before."

  
"And this?" Hawke asked, taking Fenris' right hand and running his fingers over a small patch of lighter skin on the heal of his palm.

  
"Again, I do not remember." He frowned then sat up, facing Hawke. "Let us not talk of my scars. They tell no story but that which Danarius would have me know. What of yours?" 

“Mine?” Garrett replied, surprised.  

“Yes, yours.” He shifted closer and then slowly pulled away the sheet that covered them both from the hips down.  

“They’re hardly interesting...”

  
“They are interesting to me.” Fenris stated bluntly, as if it should be obvious.  

“Okay, where do you want to start?” 

“Oh I think I’ll work my way down.” He reached out and brushed his thumb across a jagged white line on Garrett’s forehead, just below his hairline on the left side. Fenris smiled as the man’s eyes lifted, trying to follow his thumb’s movements.  

“That one, um... Fell over on a gravel path when I was five. Split my head open. Mother totally lost it, I skinned my knee too. I remember it bled a lot but there’s no scar from that one. She rushed me inside to Da as fast as she could and he did his best to heal the head wound. He was never that great with healing spells though, which is why you can see it. Unlike yours.” Garrett gestured to Fenris‘ back where the flesh was perfectly smooth where there had once been lash marks.  

“I would bet that your father was focusing on not causing you more pain whilst he worked on your head.” Fenris' eyes were slightly unfocused.  

“What do you mean?” Garrett asked, taking Fenris' hand in his own and rubbing small circles on the back of it.

  
“Danarius viewed the healing process as just another part of the punishment. It was meant to hurt almost as much as the whip.”  

“That bastard...” Garrett’s tone was pure venom but his eyes, when Fenris finally met them were big and full of tenderness.  

“I thought we weren’t talking about him?” 

“I’m sorry, do continue.” Garrett waved his hand in front of his bare chest with a smile that crinkled the skin around his eyes.  

“What about this one?” Fenris lightly touched a little white indent on Garrett’s chest.  

“It’s a chickenpox scar. Didn’t you ever have it? I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that.” He said, backpedaling. Fenris offered him a wry smile to show he didn’t mind.

  
Taking Garrett’s hand between his he noticed a faintly darker patch of skin on Garrett’s left wrist. It wrapped halfway around on the outside and stretched onto the back of his hand a little too.  

“Is this a burn scar?” He asked. Garrett who had been staring at Fenris’ long fingered hands took a moment to answer.  

“Huh? Oh, no. That’s my birthmark. I do have a couple of burn scars though, from when I was learning how to throw fire, not fun at all.”  

“A birthmark, I wonder if I have one.”  

“Most people do. Maybe later on we can try looking for it?” Garrett smirked at him in such a suggestive way that Fenris had to clear his throat to keep himself focused on the task he’d set himself.  

“Perhaps... Alright, this one?” He had reached out and taken Garrett’s right hand where a messy, pale line cut diagonally across the back.  

“Snakebite, I had to cut out the skin with the venom in before it spread. Also not fun.” Fenris winced sympathetically. Snakebites were common occurrences on Danarius’ estate, especially for the slaves working on the grounds and were usually dealt with in a similarly brutal fashion. Besides the large line cutting across the back of his hand Garrett’s fingers were littered with the tiny nicks and lines that Fenris associates with working hands. He had never seen the like on a mage’s hands before coming to Kirkwall but they were marks he’d noticed on both Garrett and Anders’. He liked them, they went some way to crossing the divide he felt between them, whether it was something he imagined or not, a mage with hands accustomed to labour was a different kind of mage to those that he had belonged to. Fenris shifted down the bed and Garrett watched him silently, he deliberately settled himself so that he was level with Garrett’s groin and he smirked as the other man twitched trying to suppress a shiver.  

“This scar is very faded, is it old?” Fenris was looking at a thick ridge on Hawke’s left knee.  

“You-What? Er... Yeah, it’s from when I was two. I’m told that I tripped and my knee went into the edge of a step and the skin split. Frankly, I’m impressed that it’s still there.  

“And above it?”  

“That little bump,” Garrett laughed, “that one is a bit unusual. The same path that did my head, I tripped again later on and I think some gravel got stuck in there.” He shrugged and Fenris raised his eyebrows.

  
“You seem to favour your left leg when it comes to scars, you’ve only one on your right.”  

“Yes, I was playing with the twins, trying to do tumbling tricks. Carver was supposed to catch my legs but he let go and my shin came down the edge of a bench. It never bled but as you can see, there’s a dent, of all things.”

  
“And this last one?”

  “Fell out of a tree, branch stabbed my leg. Simple. Ridiculous. Classic me.”  

“You are right on that point. That does sound like you.”

  
Hawke hummed contentedly and rolled onto his back, eyes roaming around the canopy of his bed before he looked back down at Fenris and smiled again. It was the kind of smile that holds nothing back, full of warmth and comfort and familiarity. Something in Fenris’ chest fluttered joyously in return.

  
“So why the fascination with my trivial little scars then?” Hawke watched patiently as Fenris thought how best to answer. The elf’s eyes darted away from his own as he did so, something he did whenever he had something important to say.

  
“I have always thought of scars as telling a story. I bear the same marks as many, they speak of slavery. I also bear much more unusual scars...” Here he paused as if searching for the right words, “I think it is because yours tell a story so normal -so safe and mundane- that I am fascinated by them. I like to imagine your parents caring for you after each was sustained, I never had that. At least, I cannot remember if I did or not. But you did and I am happy for you.” It was probably one of the longest speeches Hawke could remember Fenris making, whilst sober at least. Fenris looked up at him now, uncertainty in his green eyes.  

“Come here?” Hawke phrased it as a question -always a question, never a command- and Fenris moved up the bed towards him. Hawke pulled him close to his chest and kissed him softly.

“I promise to always care for your injuries, Fenris.” 

 

* * *

 


	2. Disagreement

"I don't know much much longer I can tolerate you and Anders sniping at each other, Fenris!" Hawke shuts the front door behind him more firmly than he means to.

"You know full well that the mage provokes it. I would not snipe if he did not belittle me at every possible opportunity."

"I don't see how he is belittling you."

"A poor choice of word. But being in a circle is nothing like slavery. If it were he would not be able to write that wretched manifesto, for one thing, because he would not have his letters." Fenris drops his gauntlets onto the bench and turns back to face Hawke.

"... Fenris..."

"No, Hawke. He insists on trying to tell me how to think. I was under the impression I had left that behind in Tevinter." There is silence but after a moment Hawke breaks it.

"The way you snap at Anders, do you get a kick out of being allowed to talk to a mage that way?" Fenris does not realise what he is doing until his knuckles connect with Hawke's jaw but he feels no regret afterwards, only a faint sense of satisfaction. He watches as Hawke flexes his jaw, there is a faint popping sound at which his rage ebbs and Fenris feels a twinge of guilt. Perhaps he hit him rather harder than he thought. An apology is on his lips when Hawke straightens up, rubbing his jaw.

"Yeah, I deserved that." He catches Fenris' eye, "I am sorry, Fenris. That was uncalled for."

"Uncalled for maybe, but there was truth in it." Hawke does not respond and Fenris does not feel like elaborating. He is sure Hawke can infer all he needs to though, he is a sharp man.

"I will try not rise to it when the mage attempts to goad a response out of me. But only if you ask that he not make demands of me or tell me I ‘simply must agree with him’" His impression of Anders is awful but the corner of Hawke's mouth twitches up nevertheless.

"I will. I can't promise that he will listen, he's just as stubborn as you," Fenris grimaces at the comparison, "but I will try."

"Thank you."                       


End file.
